


Golden

by marginaliana



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was raining again, and Harry was stuck in a terrible coffee shop watching the park for a contact. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden

It was raining again, and Harry hated it. Not only because he was stuck here, at this shambles of a coffee shop (the coffee itself was dreadful, and the weather was just slightly too cold for him to be comfortable outside, and the awning leaked, but it was the best option that allowed him to see the majority of the park without seeming desperately suspicious), waiting for an information drop that increasingly looked like it wasn't going to happen at all. But also because the rain meant that his only source of entertainment probably would stay home for the day.

He had noticed them for the first time two days ago – a small girl, two or three years old, and a young man, barely more than a boy. He'd thought them father and daughter at first, but the boy had kept up a steady stream of chatter to the girl and eventually Harry had picked up that they were brother and sister, despite the disparity in their ages. The girl was called Daisy, but as her own speech was barely intelligible, Harry hadn't yet learned the young man's name. He surprised himself by wanting to know it. He hadn't spoken to either of them himself, only observed, but he had to admit that he was intrigued. They were a delightful pair. 

Perhaps it was only that he was so very bored. He had spent three days sat on the bench at the southwest corner of the park reading a succession of newspapers, but his contact hadn't turned up yet, and Harry was starting to entertain a certain amount of doubt about his reliability. If they hadn't needed the alleged information so much – if the new Arthur hadn't been so insistent – he'd have given it up as a bad job already.

The sound of familiar laughter made him look up from his musings and his cup of allegedly-coffee. And there they were, boy and girl, despite the rain and the chill – the girl skipping across the wet grass with a cheerful smile and the boy trailing fondly after her. It became obvious to Harry in that moment that his interest was nothing to do with boredom. No, it was the young man himself that had drawn his eye, continued to draw it even now. There was something golden about him, bright, even with the sky grey and the sun blanketed heavily in cloud. Something about the way he smiled at his sister, the way he lifted her up to the play structure and plodded wearily but resolutely over to the bottom of the slide, ready to greet her as she slid down. To Harry's trained eye, exhaustion was clear in his every movement, and yet he displayed none of it to Daisy, just called out encouragingly as she tottered across the wooden slats. 

It was an attitude that Harry witnessed rarely these days. Kingsman as an organization was run and populated by cynics; it was perhaps understandable, especially after Valentine, but wearing nonetheless. Even Roxanne, the new Lancelot, had become a bit colder and harder than Harry might have wished, first during her training and more so when faced with Arthur's betrayal. Not that she wasn't worthy of the position – no, he had nothing to complain of there, and as he hadn't put forward his own candidate for the position it wasn't even as if he resented her winning the place. It was more that, after Chester's defection, Harry had become more and more worried about the heart of the organization. Too many of them did their work because it was a challenge, because of the thrill, because it paid well and conferred power. Too few of them did it because they actually cared about any of the people they were trying to save.

Harry wondered what it would be like to have this young man as part of Kingsman – perhaps as part of the technical staff, since he was young and undoubtedly knew about computers and the like, or as a chauffeur or mechanical assistant. It would be pleasant to see him every day, as Harry had recently – even better, to have a cheerful and willing smile directed at him as often as the young man directed it at his sister now.

Harry found himself frowning, however, as his glance took them in more thoroughly. The little girl wore a raincoat and boots, cheap-looking but new and painfully pink; the boy had only his regular jacket – too-thin denim – and sagging track pants, worn at the edges. Really, it shouldn't have been allowed. The boy would catch his death of cold out there like that. 

Of course, it was none of Harry's business. He wasn't there to cast judgments, wasn't there to worry about anyone but himself and his contact. He was only there to receive a folder of documents and then be on his way, as invisible as possible. Certainly Arthur would not thank him for getting distracted. And Merlin would call him ten kinds of soft fool.

As he watched, little Daisy went down the slide – rather more violently than usual, perhaps because of the slickness of the rain – and caught her brother feet first in the middle of the chest. The boy went tumbling backwards, a look of shock on his face, and landed on his back in the wet grass. It took him a long moment to stand again, and when he did so, he examined his now mud-soaked trousers with visible dismay. He ran a hand through his hair, automatic, and then grimaced at the realization that he'd made himself even muddier than before. But when he turned to his sister, he forced a smile onto his face.

Abruptly, Harry set down his cup. Arthur be damned, something would have to be done.


End file.
